


Yes Sir, Mister President

by unserene



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, jimin is namjoon's assistant, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unserene/pseuds/unserene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How absolutely <i>sinful</i> he looked in that goddamn suit, how he wanted to watch Namjoon loosen his tie with those long, slender fingers. He could see Namjoon pushing him down onto the bed, making Jimin watch as he took off his blazer, his broad shoulders shoving the piece of clothing off gradually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes Sir, Mister President

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



The three coffees Jimin held in his right hand quaked, almost spilling on the front of his white button-down as the bustling streets of Washington, D.C. swept him up into its hectic sea of workers. Clutching the thick file full of the papers he had fetched from the city post office and the tray of coffees, Jimin barely made it onto the White House property in one piece. A sigh of relief found its way out of his lungs.

He traveled down the long corridor to the President’s office, stopping off only once to give one coffee to their secretary, Lindsey. Jimin knocked on the door once before sticking his head into the office.

“Mr. President?”

Namjoon looked up from writing something on an important-looking document that would probably make Jimin’s head swirl with the problems contained in it. He looked a bit confused for a second before his eyes focused on Jimin’s head peeping into his office.

A pleasant smile spread on his lips. “Jimin? What do you need?”

Jimin took a few steps into the great office. “I picked up the documents from the post office,” He rambled, setting the tan folder gently next to Namjoon’s pen holder, “And bought you some coffee.”

“I don’t remember asking for coffee,” Namjoon wondered idly, lifting the warm cup from the tray Jimin had brought it in on, “But I’m thankful.” He lifted the cup to his lips and drank, Jimin watching the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he sipped at the hot drink. Jimin tugged at the collar of his shirt. Namjoon exhaled, resting his head on his arm.

“Long day?” Jimin asked, subconsciously organizing Namjoon’s disorganized documents that were scattered across the desk.

The President nodded, burying his face deeper into his suit sleeve, looking sickeningly like a young child who didn’t want to do his homework. “The Senate wants me to choose new Judges for the Supreme Court, but there are so many choices. Weeding people out makes me sick.” He tilted his head to the side, watching Jimin’s hands organize the strewn papers.

Jimin chuckled. “Being the President sounds hard.”

“It is.” Namjoon groaned, sitting up and grabbing the pen he had set next to the document.

“Why don’t you take a break, Mr. President?” He suggested, taking the cardboard tray from the President’s desk and inserting the tray under his arm. He heard Namjoon inhale sharply, almost hidden enough to pass by Jimin’s ear undetected. Namjoon stood from his massive chair, stretching his arms over his head.

Smiling as Namjoon made his way drowsily around the desk, Jimin crossed the short distance from himself to Namjoon. “Tsk. Your tie is loose.” His fingers snaked around the white tie, tightening the knot of the tie until it barely hit Namjoon’s throat. Hands lingering, Jimin dared to let his gaze wander up Namjoon’s throat, his sharp jawline, his wide lips, to his eyes, which harbored something Jimin couldn’t identify.

His hands released the tie as Jimin dropped his gaze. Namjoon cleared his throat. “Thank you, Jimin.”

Ducking his head meekly, the assistant made a speedy approach to the large door that lead to Jimin’s escape.

Jimin couldn’t believe his fucking luck.

 

Jimin perched on the chair in his small office, just finishing the last of the paperwork Namjoon had him file in the vast library of cabinets that surrounded him in the office. He wondered how this many filing cabinets could exist in such a _small room._

He toyed with the pencil he had placed on his now empty desk. Mind wandering, he wondered what Namjoon was doing right now. Jimin’s mind flashed back to a few weeks before, when he had tightened Namjoon’s tie for him. How absolutely _sinful_ he looked in that goddamn suit, how he wanted to watch Namjoon loosen his tie with those long, slender fingers. He could see Namjoon pushing him down onto the bed, making Jimin watch as he took off his blazer, his broad shoulders shoving the piece of clothing off gradually.

Jimin would watch as Namjoon’s hands, those _fucking hands_ , contrasting slightly with his dark shirt, teasingly unbuttoned his shirt. He would unbutton one at a time, dragging the time between the next unbuttoning, making Jimin more needy by the drawn-out second. Eventually, after loads of begging and crying from Jimin, Namjoon’s shirt would finally be removed, the moonlight streaming in from the window of his room, hitting Namjoon’s dark, defined arms. Jimin’s gaze would drift to his hips, where his boxers were barely visible, peeking over the top of his slacks.

Namjoon would let Jimin watch, not allowed to touch yet, as he began to unbuckle his belt. Jimin could see his hands, floating toward the zipper, so close to unveiling Namjoon’s-

Jimin jolted, glancing around at his surroundings wildly until he realized he was still in his own office. He then relaxed slightly, sinking back into his chair, until his dick twitched in his pants, sending another shock up his spine. His mouth opened in a silent moan as it throbbed, straining against the confines of his jeans. Jimin was painfully hard in the _wrong fucking place._ He stood shakily, pushing his chair back under his desk as he absconded from his office, down the hall, to the mens’ bathroom that resided toward the end of the second hall.

Barely paying any attention to the thought that someone else could possibly be using the restroom (all of the stalls seemed to be empty from the slight glance Jimin sent towards them as he rushed to the handicap stall), he locked himself into the stall and sat on the toilet, slumping against the wall. He unbuckled his jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers, his dick pulsing violently along with his heart. He sighed in relief as his hand slid up and down his cock, feeling himself come closer to release. Jimin needed to get back to work.

His hand moving faster as the heat of lust licked at his insides, Jimin finally came, cum oozing out of his dick, Namjoon’s name on his lips as he not-so-quietly moaned out in the bathroom. He slowly came down from his high, the only sound in the quiet bathroom beinghis irregular breathing and his accelerated heartbeat, pounding away in his ears.

Jimin came to his senses, realizing that he had just jerked off to a fantasy of his _boss_ in the fucking _White House bathroom,_ and that _anyone could have been in here at any time_. He groaned, running his clean hand over his face to try to erase the sudden drowsiness that overtook his small frame. He cleaned himself off and straightened himself out before exiting the bathroom. He nervously peered around the hall while walking back to his office. Jimin really hoped that nobody heard him.

 

 

The bathroom incident had since been erased from Jimin’s mind, as everything went as usual since that strained afternoon. Jimin had just returned from running an errand for Lindsey, when Namjoon’s voice came through his intercom.

“Jimin, may I see you in my office?” His voice boomed, slightly distorted through the intercom.

Startled for half a second, Jimin pressed the button to reply to Namjoon, hoping it was the right one. “Uh, sure, Mr. President. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Jimin arrived at the large doors thirty seconds later, taking ten more seconds to catch his breath, and twenty to collect his thoughts before facing whatever the President wanted. Was he getting fired? Jimin could list all of the things he did wrong on one hand, and they were all very minor things, like accidentally ordering Namjoon the wrong coffee, or forgetting to give Lindsey the newspaper from the corner store. He wasn’t sure what he did to suddenly be fired, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to face the music.

He opened the door, stepping softly into the room. Namjoon eyed him from his desk, unusually devoid of any paperwork on the polished mahogany surface. Jimin swallowed and shuffled to one of the seats across from Namjoon’s desk.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Jimin’s small voice peeped, breaking the long silence between the President and his assistant. He was startled when he wasn’t met with an answer but with Namjoon suddenly standing, walking to the grand windows and closing the blinds.

The hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck began to stand up as Namjoon stalked to the door, sliding the large bolt into place, locking the door. “S-sir?”

Namjoon settled in the empty seat next to Jimin, gazing, as Jimin began to fidget nervously. “Namjoon, am I being fired?”

Those long fingers suddenly reached for Jimin's tie, tugging him into Namjoon’s lap. Jimin gasped, legs clenching around Namjoon’s waist instinctively as he gripped onto his broad shoulders to catch himself.

He felt Namjoon’s lips brush against the shell of his ear, before his warm breath hit his ear. “I prefer ‘Mr. President.’”

Jimin’s breath shuddered, his grip on Namjoon’s shoulders tightening, as Namjoon moved his lips so that he was mouthing at Jimin’s neck. He felt a small moan force its way out of his throat as Namjoon began to kiss his neck. Jimin tilted his head to the side to give him more room, when suddenly, Namjoon pulled away.

“I need a few copies of the law the Senate just tried to pass. I need one filed, one sent to Lindsey, one put in the third filing cabinet in your own office, and two for me, so I can write as I need on one.” Namjoon droned casually, like he hadn’t just been sucking at Jimin’s neck mere _seconds_ before he began to spout this nonsense. Jimin gaped at him.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed, and his face suddenly lit up when he remembered what else he needed. “Oh! And a coffee!” He put Jimin on his chair again, standing and beginning to saunter back to his desk. “Thanks Jimin.”

Jimin was still quaking, his dick straining in his dress slacks he had worn for today’s meeting. He stood shakily, slowly making his way toward the door. He barely registers the sound of Namjoon picking up the phone on his desk and dialing a number.

“Yeah, Lindsey? Cancel the meeting at 2. No, everything is fine. Something came up, and it’s extremely important. Yes, thank you.” Namjoon hung up the phone. Jimin had froze, hand reaching for the lock on the door. He felt Namjoon’s gaze heavy on his back.

He felt Namjoon close in on him, wrapping his thin fingers around Jimin’s wrist, pulling it towards himself instead of towards the door. “Did you really think that I would just leave you like that?” Namjoon rumbled, guiding Jimin’s hands towards his shirt buttons. Jimin stood there, flabbergasted, staring up at Namjoon.

Namjoon stared back at him, pondering for a few seconds, before realizing something he had forgotten. “I forgot to ask. Do you want this?”

Jimin opened his mouth, no sound coming out for a second before he finally spoke. “Y-yes, yes, I want this. I want you.” He stuttered, his hands balling up the material of Namjoon’s dress shirt.

“Then go on.” Namjoon taunted. Jimin felt his instincts kickstart as his fingers began to unbutton Namjoon’s buttons on his shirt, working expertly to remove the buttons from their placeholders.

Jimin growled, frustrated, as the buttons weren’t coming undone fast enough for his liking. “I just want to _rip them all off_ , fuck.” He snarled, making Namjoon raise an eyebrow.

He pushed Jimin a bit away from him, his hands going to the bottoms of his shirt and pulling it over his head, exposing the vast plain of Namjoon’s toned muscles. Jimin felt himself salivating, his hands immediately roaming over his stomach and arms, stopping at the small of his back to pull him in and kiss Namjoon’s lips properly.

Their lips meshed together, tongue slowly being added to the mix as Namjoon shyly lapped at Jimin’s lip. Jimin accepted, pulling them closer together, Namjoon slowly moving them back towards his desk until the backs of his thighs hit his own desk. Jimin pushed him onto the desk, moving Namjoon’s things to the side as he spread his legs to make space for himself between Namjoon’s thighs. He broke their deep kiss, moving his lips down to suck at Namjoon’s jawline, as Namjoon himself gasped for air, running his fingers down Jimin’s spine to his ass.

“My pants,” Namjoon suddenly commanded, “Take off my pants.” Jimin nodded, immediately pulling off of Namjoon’s neck and moving to his belt, deftly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his slacks, dragging them off of Namjoon’s hips and exposing his legs.

“What else, Mr. President?” Jimin says prettily, running his hands up Namjoon’s thighs.

Namjoon’s eyes followed Jimin’s hands as they stroked his legs. “I want you naked. Now.”

He didn’t skip a beat, practically tearing his own shirt off and shucking his pants and boxers. With Namjoon’s eyes roaming his now naked body, Jimin felt irrationally shy. He had literally just stripped Namjoon of almost all of his clothes. He realized Namjoon still had his boxers on, his own erection growing even more as Namjoon’s dick was outlined in the tight boxers.

“Now suck me off until I say.” Namjoon whispered, his voice low but all of the force that he had behind it still there. Jimin nodded, getting on his knees, grasping Namjoon’s knees and pulling his pelvis towards his face. He pulled down Namjoon’s boxers, his dick already leaking precum even before Jimin had touched him.

Jimin took Namjoon’s dick into his hand, hot and heavy, and jacked it off a few times before taking the head into his mouth, sucking and trying not to flinch at the strong saltiness of Namjoon’s precum. The taste was worth the view Jimin had, though, as Namjoon threw his head back, his lips open as he let a groan build in his chest. Jimin went back to work, his hand working around the base of his cock as he slowly took him deeper into his mouth.

When Jimin’s teeth accidentally grazed the head while pulling back, Namjoon absolutely fucking _snarled_ , his hands snaking into Jimin’s black locks and practically shoving him back down onto his dick, almost choking Jimin in response. Tears gathered at the corners of Jimin’s eyes as he grasped at Namjoon’s waist, pulling him closer, closer, closer, until Namjoon was practically fucking his mouth.

“Ugh, God, Jimin, Park Jimin..” He whined, pulling Jimin’s head from his cock, “Stop, before I cum on your fucking face.”

Jimin stared at Namjoon, wiping the spit from his chin and mouth. “Anything else, Mr. President?” He asked hoarsely, coughing a bit.

“Yes,” He breathed, a wild look crossing his face, “I want to fuck you on this desk.”

His dick jumped along with his stomach in excitement. Nobody else in the world (probably) had ever been fucked on the President’s desk. What the fuck, why not?

Jimin hopped onto the desk while Namjoon opened a drawer next on the side of the desk, pulling a condom and a bottle of lube out. He gave him an odd look, and Namjoon blushed sheepishly.

“I always kept these in here.. Just in case.” He mumbled, slicking three of his fingers up. Jimin rolled his eyes and spread his legs when Namjoon motioned for him to.

“Do you know how to.. Y’know..” Jimin motioned to where Namjoon was heading with his lubed fingers.

Namjoon huffed, a slight blush burning on his cheeks and ears. “Of course! I’m the President..”

“Mmhmm..” Jimin hummed, raising a skeptical eyebrow before laying back on the cool surface of the desk. Namjoon was going to lay him on his desk and fuck him. He didn’t know if he should feel honored or horrified.

The thoughts left his mind as Namjoon stuck the first finger in, the coolness of the lube making Jimin shiver. His field of vision was invaded by Namjoon, who smirked, as Jimin was now the one blushing. He turned his head away from the smug look the other was giving him.

“Aww, c’mon..” He whined, resting his head on his chest.

“Hurry the fuck up and put another finger in before I fuck you myself.” Namjoon’s eyebrows skyrocketed when the words left Jimin’s mouth, who started to grumble until his significant other (?) inserted another finger.

Namjoon began to move his hand in and out, scissoring and trying to stretch him as much as possible before adding a third finger. Jimin’s mouth opened, a strained moan released from him as he clutched at Namjoon’s back. A chuckle elicited from him, and Namjoon began to kiss and suck at Jimin’s neck for the second time that day.

Jimin groaned and began to grind his ass against Namjoon’s fingers, shuddering when he began to curl his fingers inside of him. “Namjoon- Mr. President- Ohh, God, fuck.” He whined. Namjoon nodded, getting the jist of what Jimin wanted him to do, and unwrapped the condom, rolling it onto his dick and drizzling lube on his already slicked fingers. Jimin licked his lips as he watched Namjoon jerk himself off to spread the lube over his cock, his unused hand coming around to the small of Jimin’s back to lift his ass off of the table.

“Are you ready?” Namjoon murmured, his fingers kneading the small of his back.

“God, I was born ready.” Jimin breathed, meeting Namjoon’s heated stare with his own. With a smile, Namjoon began to press himself into Jimin’s hole, a slight burning sensation making Jimin clench his eyes shut in pure pleasure.

Namjoon moaned as he slowly pushed his hips up to meet Jimin’s, hands flying to Jimin’s hips and guiding them down onto his pelvis. “Oh, fuck..”

Jimin felt a spark in his chest and a blazing fire in his stomach as he watched Namjoon’s hips roll into his own. He suddenly felt very touchy and emotional, and grabbed at Namjoon’s wrists, tugging at them until he got his attention.

Namjoon looked at Jimin, lust and concern mixing into his expression. “What is it?” He rumbled, halting his movements. Jimin groaned in complaint when he felt Namjoon stop moving inside of him.

“Don’t stop, just..” He tugged at Namjoon’s hands again, this time successfully removing the iron grip on his hips, “..I want you to hold me.” A rosy blush dusted Jimin’s chest and face, averting his bashful gaze from Namjoon’s surprised face to the roses that sat on a table by the window.

Namjoon grinned, lacing his fingers with Jimin’s own. He wrapped his other arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him closer to himself and bringing his face closer in proximity to Jimin’s. His eyes were in his signature crescents as his smile blinded Jimin, squeezing his hand. “Of course.”

Without Jimin having to ask awkwardly, Namjoon started right back up, setting the pace a bit faster this time. Jimin groaned and let his eyes shut, slamming his hips down to meet Namjoon’s as his dick went further up his ass. He grasped for anything around him, faintly hearing the sound of Namjoon’s cup of writing utensils hitting the floor as his arm swung around frantically, finally ending up gripping his bicep.

“You’re..” Namjoon started, “You’re so hot, and warm, and..I don’t know how to describe it, you just feel _so good,_ Jimin.”

Jimin was about to respond, when a white hot flash blurred his vision, making his back arch and a loud sob ripped from his throat. He felt heat surge through his body, making Namjoon’s touch suddenly extremely distinct on his skin. Namjoon quieted his high-pitched moans by kissing him deeply, seeming to swallow his lewd noises as he rammed his dick into his ass.

“Namjoon,” He gasped, breaking away from the feverish kiss, “Namjoon, I can’t take it anymore, oh fuck, please, _Namjoon-"_  

 Jimin was sure that he had clutched Namjoon’s hand so hard that he probably lost circulation in his left hand. Namjoon grunted, squeezing Jimin’s cock as his cum squirted across his stomach, coming barely touched.

“God, that’s hot.” He whispered, his hair brushing Jimin’s face as Namjoon leaned his head down to kiss at Jimin’s jaw, fucking in faster, “So fucking hot.” He grabbed a handful of Jimin’s hair, jerking it to the side so Jimin’s neck was exposed. Like a wet paintbrush on a clean canvas, Namjoon sucked a mark onto Jimin’s neck, earning a small groan from the receiver.

Jimin could tell that Namjoon was close, as his breath was hitching each time his hips and thighs smacked into Jimin’s ass. Sighing, Jimin wrapped his arm around Namjoon’s neck, toying with the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Won’t you come for me, Mr. President?” He purred, running his fingers through Namjoon’s black hair. He felt Namjoon freeze up and moan, his hips stuttering, and he knew that Namjoon had come.

The older male panted against Jimin’s shoulder, pulling out and tying off the condom, disposing it in the trash next to the desk.

Jimin smirked. “Was that satisfying enough?” He inquired cockily, tracing random shapes on the middle of Namjoon’s back.

“Yes.” Namjoon mumbled, kissing Jimin one last time before pulling away. He let go of Jimin’s hand, sliding off of his desk to retrieve his underwear. He slid the boxers on, handing Jimin his own, and began to collect their wildly strewn clothes.

Underwear on, Jimin and Namjoon began to redress themselves. Jimin kept sneaking little glances at Namjoon while he was bent over, blushing violently when he caught him peeking the fourth time. He reddened further upon seeing Namjoon put his hands on his hips and shaking his ass a bit.

“Stop! You’re so weird..” Jimin fussed, shaking his head rapidly as he sped up the process of cleaning the office. He met a cackle in response, and had to repress the urge to roll his eyes.

A bout of playful banter started between the two, Namjoon throwing pens at Jimin and Jimin throwing articles of clothing at Namjoon. The two halted as a knock sounded through the room. Namjoon and Jimin glanced at each other, then raced to put their clothes on as quickly as possible. Buttoning the last button on his dress shirt and successfully hiding Jimin under his newly straightened and cleaned desk, Namjoon opened the door.

Lindsey’s meek voice was barely loud enough to reach Jimin’s ears. “U-Um.. Mr. President.. The meeting has been rescheduled for n-next Thursday at six.. I’m sorry for interrupting.” She murmured, then bowed her head slightly and scurried away.

Namjoon closed the door behind him and met Jimin’s eyes peeping from behind the desk. “I.. I think we need to be more quiet next time.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe jenny made me write this!!!!!!!!!!!  
> i'm going to hell :)


End file.
